


Only the Lonely Survive

by hideeho



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, M/M, Minor Character Death Reference, Nothing Shown, The Old Guard AU, Viking!Buck, Why have a meet cute when you can have a meet shoot?, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideeho/pseuds/hideeho
Summary: “Who the hell is that?”There is no time to hear an answer before the object of his question has fired a bullet straight between his eyes. The fight has moved to the next room by the time the bullet slides from his skin and clatters to the floor. Buck winces as he stands.Why is it always the easy jobs that go sideways?An AU based on Netflix'sThe Old Guard
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 524





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarialdarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarialdarion/gifts).



“Who the hell is that?”

There is no time to hear an answer before the object of his question has fired a bullet straight between his eyes. The fight has moved to the next room by the time the bullet slides from his skin and clatters to the floor. Buck winces as he stands. 

Why is it always the easy jobs that go sideways? 

Buck wipes the blood out of his eyes, rushing out of the room to rejoin the fray. Athena and Bobby are making quick work of the reinforcements as Chim and Hen work to make an exit path. 

He’s not sure how the U.S. Army found themselves in the middle of this fight, but they clearly aren’t bothering to wait for explanations from a group of mercenaries in the middle of Afghanistan. An unexpected complication, but one they can overcome. They’ve certainly overcome worse. 

Buck spots the man from earlier, looking more like he should be playing a soldier in a movie than seeing actual combat. Warm brown eyes catch his own and Buck can’t help but smirk at the wide eyed confusion that crosses the man’s face. _Surprise, asshole._

His amusement is short lived when a searing flash of pain is quickly followed by familiar darkness. It has been awhile since he has admired an opponent’s skill. It almost makes this fun. 

Buck knows he’s a skilled fighter; he was even back when he still thought he was mortal and spent his days swinging an axe. Natural brute strength and power had only been honed over the near millennia he was alive. He was good, _damn_ good, but no amount of training could teach him to outrun the devastating power of a bullet. He misses the days of swords and axes, when skill and stamina reigned supreme. He’d like to see how this guy handled him then, fighting up close enough they could see the sweat on each other’s brows. 

It’s almost a shame they’re trying to kill each other, he’d like to see how this guy would handle him outside of battle as well. Does he look as good up close? 

No sooner does he finish the thought when the man manages to catch him a third time; the bullet piercing his abdomen. “Are you fucking ki—” 

Buck doesn’t get to finish his thought before the man takes him out again. Okay, he’s really starting to hate this guy, no matter how hot he is. 

Right, so this guy is a good shot. Fine. Whatever. Buck might even admire his skill if he wasn’t in the way of his family making their escape. He has gotten the better of him three times, but there won't be a fourth. 

Buck loses him in the fight, taking down those in his path before his eyes lock in on his rival yet again. He doesn’t hesitate to take his shot, catching the man in the side of a neck as his target moves to dodge the inevitable at the last moment. Shit. The man will bleed out. He knows he’ll bleed out, but it will be slow and painful. Buck has never been a fan of cheap shots and messy kills. He had died a thousand agonizing deaths and no matter how annoying this guy might have been, he didn’t wish a slow death on anyone. Especially not one who he admires as an opponent. 

He should leave him. 

They’re nearly out now. 

He’ll die before help comes. He’ll suffer. He had given Buck three quick deaths, the least Buck can do is return the favor. 

“Fuck,” Buck mutters, darting over to where the man lays dying. Even now he’s struggling to survive, so desperate to live as he tries to suck in breath around the pooling blood in his mouth. Buck has seen it all: desperate pleas for life, wailing denial, offers to change to some unhearing god for just one more day and stoic acceptance. He’s not sure he’s ever seen such tired resignation as he sees in this man’s eyes. 

Diaz. His uniform says Diaz. 

Diaz doesn’t spare a glance at his soon-to-be murderer standing over him. His gaze is steadfast on the bloody photograph in his shaking hand, a name on his lips as Buck puts him out of his misery with a bullet through his temple. 

_Christopher_.

Buck’s eyes dart down to the bloody photograph, his gut twisting at the sight of the smiling little boy this man had loved so much. Buck has always liked kids and this one is especially cute. This is part of the gig. He has killed countless fathers and sons. They all have people that will never see them again; a long ripple of collateral damage he doesn’t allow himself to consider. He takes no pleasure in killing, knows eventually all their faces will fade, but for the first time in a long time in a long time he feels guilty. 

“Buck, come on! Let’s go,” Bobby calls from the hall. He shakes his head, forces himself back in the moment as they make their escape. He tells himself he’ll forget this one too. 

They’re all quiet when they arrive at the safe house; rattled from a fight they hadn’t been expecting. Buck is usually the one to distract them, the first to fill the quiet spaces with details of his latest interest to distract them from the weariness of death and rebirth. Tonight he goes to bed early, haunted by brown eyes and a little boy in glasses. 

The others come to check in on him as the evening progresses, but he feigns sleep. They know he’s lying, but they let him. He loves them for that. 

Sleep is slow to come to him, but when it does the man follows him as he dreams of searing pain at his throat, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. He awakes with a gasp, desperately trying to suck in air as his heart pounds in his chest. It felt so real. He’s never had a nightmare so vivid. 

“It can’t be.”

“Why? Why _now?_ ” 

Buck blinks in confusion at the voices coming from the other room. 

Chim barges into his room, hair sticking up in all directions. “What did you see?”

“What,” Buck asks in confusion. “It was just a nightmare‐”

“Cut throat? Bleeding out? Hovering figure followed by a gunshot?” 

“How...how did you know,” Buck stammers. He didn’t think they had seen what had happened. 

“Because we saw it too,” Hen explains from the doorway. “That wasn’t a nightmare, Buckaroo. He’s one of us. Come on, we’re meeting in the kitchen. We need to figure out what we saw so we can find him.”

Buck feels frozen with confusion, his limbs heavy and clumsy as he joins his family in the kitchen. Athena and Bobby are speaking their own silent language with their eyes, Chim and Hen already jotting down everything they can remember. 

It can’t be. There hasn’t been a new one since him over 900 years ago. He was the last one. Right? 

“Buck, what did you see in your dream? We need all the clues we can get,” Athena prods gently, resting a hand on the crook of his arm to pull him out of his churning thoughts. She’s always so calm in chaos. He could live another two thousand years and never be as calm as her. 

“I don’t need the dream to tell you what happened,” Buck mutters stiffly, ignoring the eyes that have suddenly all turned to him. 

“What do you mean,” Bobby presses. “Why not?” 

“Because I’m the one that killed him.”

* * *

Eddie wakes with gargled gasp in pitch blackness, spitting out blood as his fingers seek to press on a wound he can no longer find. He reaches out, limbs constricted by the thick plastic around him.

He can’t get out. Why can’t he get out? What is this? What is—

A body bag. He’s in a body bag. 

Eddie barks out a hysterical laugh, sucking in a breath and forcing himself to assess the situation. He is covered in dried blood he knows is his own. He should be dying. No, he should be dead, but he feels - not fine, but - alive. He’s alive. He’s actually alive. Or maybe he’s not, he’s in a body bag after all. Maybe this is all some hallucination, purgatory or perhaps even hell. It would certainly make more sense than some phantom foe that simply wouldn’t _die_. 

He can feel the panic rising in his chest, squeezing his lungs as he tries to make sense of the impossible. 

They were on a routine patrol. There were reports of gunfire. They were ordered to assess the situation. There was a skirmish. They were ordered to engage, there hadn’t been time to question why. There were a group of fighters, fighting in unison in a way he had never seen outside of a choreographed scene. 

There was a tall man, built like a fucking tank with a birthmark on his face shooting to kill. Eddie made a clean shot, he knows he made a clean shot. Only the man came back. He _smirked_ at him. Eddie killed him again. And again. People didn’t come back from the dead. How had he stood back up from a shot to the head? 

How had he woken up from a gunshot wound to the neck?

He’s a medic, he knows the human brain can play tricks on people. Only, he can still taste blood on his tongue, can feel squishy matter in his hair he is pretty sure is bits of his own brain. He’s in a fucking _body bag_.

He’s definitely in hell. 

Eddie thrashes out against the bag, knowing he’ll never be able to punch through the thick plastic but not knowing what else to do. Soon he’s screaming. 

“Hold on, hold on, I’m getting you out,” says an unfamiliar voice, pressing down on his shoulders through the bag to calm his thrashing. “You’ve got to be quiet,” the voice continues, light flooding in as the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled rings like music to his ears. Eddie pushes himself up, freeing himself from his prison as he turns to his savior. 

_Him_.

“Hello again,” the man says, his birthmark stark pink against his pale skin. “No hard feelings,” he adds before bringing his hand up and cold-clocking him with the butt of a gun. 

Eddie wakes up in an unfamiliar room, the sounds of hushed whispers coming from the next room. At least he’s not in a body bag. He eases himself to the floor, looking around for anything he can use as a weapon. He spots a poker by the fireplace, making sure the coast is clear before darting over to grab it. His hand goes around the cool metal the same time the floor creaks under his feet. 

“Sleeping beauty is awake,” an Asian man says, walking into the room with an amused smile on his face. Four others follow behind him, blocking him from the only exit he can see. 

“Who are you,” Eddie demands, bringing the poker up defensively. 

“Told you we should have tied him up,” the blond man with a birthmark adds and Eddie glares, debating the pros and cons of diving head first through the window. 

“He’s not a prisoner,” an older white man sighs, holding his palms up in a sign of peace. “You’re not a prisoner,” he continues, looking directly at Eddie. “I’m Bobby. This is Athena, Hen, Chim and I believe you’ve met Buck.”

Eddie tightens his grip on the poker. “Why have you kidnapped me? You really don’t think they’ll notice I’m missing?”

“Pretty sure they think you’re dead,” Buck mutters, earning himself an elbow to the side from the one they call Chim. 

“You,” Eddie starts, pointing the poker at Buck. “You—”

“Killed you? Yep. _Twice_.”

“Didn’t he kill you three times,” Chim challenges with a smirk, earning himself an indignant glare from Buck. 

“That’s impossible. You can’t just...It’s impossible,” Eddie continues, his brain failing to make sense of everything going on. 

“I can kill you again if it will help,” Buck offers. 

“ _Children_ ,” Athena snaps, shooting Buck a look that has him looking sheepish. Even Eddie feels like he has been scolded by his mother when she turns her gaze on him. “You, stop trying to kill the new guy. New guy, put down your weapon. We’ve all lost enough blood over the last forty-eight hours. Let’s talk, shall we?” 

This is madness. 

None of this makes sense. 

Maybe that’s why he agrees. 

“So you’re all immortal.”

“ _We’re_ all immortal,” Hen corrects. 

“And you’re the youngest,” Eddie continues, turning to the man that killed him. “A viking.” Which, yeah, okay, looking at him makes sense. It certainly explains the axe he is currently sharpening, which is not at all unnerving. How old did that make him? He should have paid more attention in history class instead of passing notes with Shannon. 

Shannon. _Christopher._

“Why me?”

“We don’t know,” Athena states plainly, reaching over to refill his wine glass. He swallows half the glass in one go, not tasting a thing. “Nor do we know when it will happen. It’s been so long since Buck, I think we all thought he was the last one.”

“So what, we just never die?”

“We can die,” Bobby states, eyes darting over to Buck. 

“But I thought—”

“We can die,” Buck snaps, running his sharpening stone over the blade with particular vengeance. 

“We can die,” Athena states, rubbing Buck’s shoulder as if to soothe him. “Not easily and not for a very long time, but eventually. We’ve lost one before.” 

“There has to be a way to speed up the process,” Eddie insists. He doesn’t want immortal life; he wants a life with his son. 

“There’s not,” Bobby says with a grimace. “I’ve tried. I know it’s hard and no one expects you to come to terms with it right away, but this is your life now.” 

Eddie won’t accept that. He can’t. 

He made a promise to come home. 

“My family.”

“Already think you’re dead. They’re mourning your loss, but they will move on,” Athena says bluntly. 

“You don’t understand, I have to go back to my son.” 

“I had a son once and a daughter. So did Bobby. Hen had a son as well. We all had people, Eddie,” Athena sighs. “They won’t be able to understand. Even if they could, what you are puts them in danger. They can be used against you if the wrong person finds out what you are. The kindest thing you can do for them, the best way you can protect them, is to stay dead.” 

But he promised.

* * *

It has been three days since he killed Eddie Diaz and he can’t believe he ever felt guilty for shooting him.

Buck has been with his family for over nine hundred years and this guy just swans in like he has been here forever. He’s too comfortable, too brash with his opinions and his questions. He may be immortal, but he’s not family, not yet. Not that he wants to be family, Eddie has made that point perfectly clear. 

It’s painfully obvious he’s just biding his time before he leaves and Buck hates him for it. Hates the way he single mindedness could put them all in danger. Hates the way Eddie looks like his heart has been ripped out through his chest when he thinks no one is looking. Most of all, he hates the way he’s responsible for all of it. 

“So why do they call you Chim,” Eddie asks lazily, running his hand over his buzzed hair. Buck can’t help but wonder what it would look like if it were grown out just long enough to pull on. If that’s something he would be interested in. He’s not, for he record. 

“Funny story, actually,” Chim starts and Buck can’t believe he’s just going to tell him. 

“What the hell? You wouldn’t tell me for a century. You said I wasn’t old enough yet,” Buck exclaims and he is _not_ sulking, thank you. He’s just calling out the double standard. 

“That’s because you were a child. Eddie here is a man.”

“He’s an _infant_. The new baby of the group.”

“Oh, you’re still the baby of the group,” Hen says with a laugh. 

“I am nearly a thousand years older than him,” Buck huffs, feeling the tips of his ears turn red in indignation. 

“Yeah, but Eddie here has a certain quality about him,” Chim muses, gesturing over at an amused Eddie. 

“He’s an old soul,” Hen offers.

“That’s it,” Chim agrees with a snap of his fingers. “He’s an old soul. That makes you the baby.” 

“Whatever.” This is bullshit. Buck pushes away from the table, heading outside to work out some of his aggression. 

“Hey, what’s your problem, man?” 

Of course he would follow him. 

“You, man, you’re my problem,” Buck states, words sharp on his tongue. 

“I didn’t ask for you to kill me.” 

“You killed me first,” Buck retorts, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. It’s not like he knew this would happen! “Trust me, I’d have preferred if you stayed dead.” He regrets the words as soon as he says them, wincing at the hurt on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah, well, it would have been better if I had.”

 _No_ rips through his mind so vehemently he feels shaken with it. 

“Hey, look, don’t say that,” Buck urges, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder before pulling his hand back abruptly as Eddie flinches away. Eddie stalks back to the house, not sparing him another look before stepping back inside. He feels like shit. 

“You need to make things right with him,” comes Bobby’s voice from behind him. Buck can’t help but groan. 

“Heard that, did you?”

“Fix this, Buck. You may not like him, but he’s one of us now.” 

“It would be a lot easier if he wasn’t such a prick,” Buck mumbles, pushing away the guilt that lays thick in his gut. 

“He’s grieving, Buck. I know it has been awhile, but surely you can remember what it’s like.” He does, even after all this time. 

“He’s going to do something stupid. He’s going to put us all in danger,” Buck argues weakly, knowing Bobby is right. 

“All the more reason for us to watch out for him.” 

Which is how he finds himself smuggled in the back of a charted plane with Eddie heading to Texas. Really, this is all Bobby’s fault. He’s just doing as he was told. If Eddie’s going to do something stupid, at least he can make sure he has back up. 

That almost makes up for killing him and trapping him with immortal life, right?

* * *

“You don’t have to come with me,” Eddie points out for the fourteenth time.

“I told you, I come with or I kill you and tie you up until Athena can get here to rip your head off. I can tell you from experience, regrowing a head is not pleasant.” 

Eddie is pretty sure he’s joking. Fairly certain. God, he hopes he’s joking. 

“So, have you figured out your grand plan yet,” Buck asks, also for the fourteenth time. 

“I’m winging it.” 

“Oh, well, how could that possibly go wrong?”

Eddie is slightly tempted to kill him again, but Buck had arranged for him to get back to the States so he settles for glaring instead. He’s still not sure why he’s suddenly helping him, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

The truth is, he has no idea what he’s doing. He just...he needs to say goodbye. It’s selfish, but he hasn’t been chosen for immortality for his virtue. Maybe it won’t change a damn thing, but whatever is happening to him won’t be real until he does this. Eddie has failed at so many things in his life, but none sting as much as his failure at being a husband and father. He was supposed to have time to be better. He was supposed to have time to try. 

Now he has all the time in the world and none of it can be used for the one thing he wants. 

A cruel cosmic joke. 

The plane flies into Miami. From there, Buck hotwires a car to avoid leaving a paper trail. Eddie itches at the thought, always one to follow the rules, but life is different now. It has to be. 

They pull outside his house at three in the morning two days later. It looks the same as when he left it, only now there are yellow ribbons around the trees out front. 

_They’re already mourning you._

“What now?”

“I’m saying goodbye to my son.”

“What, Eddie, you can’t go in there!” 

“Stop me,” Eddie snaps, feeling like a live wire licking the edge of a pool of water. There must be something in his eyes that has Buck pulling back, nodding his reluctant acceptance. 

“Fine, but unless you have an identical twin that explains how you’re still up and standing, the second someone turns on a light we’re out of here.” Eddie nods, not sure if he’s actually agreeing or just telling Buck what he wants to hear. 

They park three houses down. He takes extra care to close the car door silently, hesitating as they draw near. “I don’t suppose you know how to break into a window without making a sound?”

Buck sighs, but nods and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, realizing just how little he has truly thought this out. Buck pulls out a tiny kit and watches in both awe and horror how easily he gets the window to his son’s room open.

He needs to tell Shannon they need a better security—

Right. As far as she knows he’s dead. He can’t give advice from the grave. 

He nods his thanks to Buck before pulling himself up and through the window, wincing as the floorboards creak ever so slightly under his weight. He holds his breath, releasing it when he realizes no one has woken in the house. He makes his way to his son’s bed, hovering over his small sleeping boy. 

He reaches out instinctively, pausing before actually touching him. How much of Christopher’s life he has missed when he had a chance to be with him? So much time wasted. For what? It had all made so much sense at the time, but now standing over him one last time he can’t think of a single reason worth all that he has missed. 

It’s hard to make out Christoper’s features in the dark, but he does his best, determined to memorize the soft slope of his cheeks, the way his chest rises and falls in sleep. An eternity is a long time to store a memory and he doesn’t want this one to fade. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a drop falls onto Chris’ cheek, causing him to stir in his sleep. Panic seizes him in his chest as his son’s eyes flutter open. 

“Daddy?”

“Shh, buddy. Shh. It’s just a dream,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. 

“They said you died.”

“I did,” he chokes, feeling Christopher’s small hand reach out to grasp his own. 

“But you’re here. You feel real,” Chris says softly, pulling himself up and burying his face in Eddie’s stomach. 

“I know, buddy. I know,” Eddie forces out through his tears, wrapping Chris in his arms tightly. “I just...I wanted to say goodbye. To tell you how sorry I am that I can’t come home.” 

“But you’re home now,” his tiny voice insists, muffled by Eddie’s shirt. 

“I know, but I can’t stay.”

“Because you died?”

“Yeah, because I died. But I want you to remember that I love you. I love you more than anything,” he promises, sinking to his knees so he can look his son in the eyes. Chris squints in the dark, unable to see much without his glasses. Maybe it’s better that way, easier to explain away as a child’s vivid dream. “No matter what. No matter how far away I am, no matter how much time passes, I will always love you. There won’t be a day on earth when I won’t think of you. This world can go on for a million years and you will still be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I love you too, daddy.” Eddie smiles, kissing his son’s forehead. “Will you lay with me? Just for a little while?”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t tell him no. Not now. He crawls beside Christoper, pulling his son to him. He buries his face in his son’s hair, trying desperately to memorize his scent, the feel of him breathing against him, the sound of his voice. He’s immortal, but he doesn’t have enough time to memorize a million different details to last him a thousand years. He didn’t want to forget his voice, his smell, the way his arms hugged around him so tightly. 

There isn’t enough time. 

Chris falls back asleep against him, but Eddie stays still, unable to let him go. 

“Eddie, Eddie, it will be dawn soon. We have to go,” Buck urges softly, giving him as much time as they could afford. 

It isn’t enough. 

It was never going to be enough. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry, but it’s time.” 

He pulls himself away, brushing Chris’ hair out of his face before kissing his forehead one last time. 

How long before he forgot his voice? His smell? His face? Would he have a decade? A century? How long could he carry this moment? He didn’t want eternity; he only wanted this moment. This moment would be enough. 

“ _Eddie_.”

He carefully slides out of his son’s arm, settling him back against his pillow with one more long look. He refuses to look back as he slides out of the window. He only looks forward as they walk to the car, even as they pull away. 

He walked away so many times when he had the option to stay, maybe this is what he deserves.

* * *

Eddie doesn’t say a word as they drive to North Carolina. He stares ahead, more zombie than man. Buck forces him to eat, not wanting to watch him starve to death over and over again. He’s been through enough plagues to know how ugly that can get.

Buck has made a lot of stupid mistakes in his life, but it all dulls in comparison to this. 

He saw something he wasn’t supposed to be privy too, a moment so raw he knows it will haunt him for years to come. He wants to offer comfort, but what he can say that would possibly make any of this better? Countless languages and he still struggles to find a single word that fits. 

So he stays silent. 

It’s only once they’re in the air, stuffed in the back of a cargo plane headed to Morocco where the others will be waiting that Eddie makes a sound. He doesn’t recognize it as human at first, a wail so guttural it sounds more animal than man.

Buck doesn’t think, just pulls Eddie to him, as if the force of his arms around him can keep him from falling apart. Eddie screams into his stomach, the ferocity of it scratching his throat before healing and starting the process all over again. He’s not sure how long it lasts. Doesn’t matter, he refuses to flinch from this. Not when he is what knocked the dominoes in place to get them here. 

Eddie falls silent after a time, but he doesn’t pull away and so Buck keeps holding him close, eventually falling asleep with Eddie in his arms. He startles awake as Eddie begins to pull away. Without thinking he pulls him back to him, but if Eddie minds he doesn’t say. 

“We’re descending,” Eddie explains, voice hauntingly empty of emotion. 

“Look, Eddie, I—”

“Did you have any kids?”

The question surprises him so thoroughly he forgets to answer for a moment. “Oh, no. No kids. I had a sister.”

“Were you close?”

“We were, yeah.”

“Did she...Did she know about you?”

“She did. She actually traveled with us while she was alive. She and Chim...They were together. In love. It wasn’t easy, in the end. Sometimes I think it would have been kinder to let her live her life with people who aged like she did.”

“Oh,” Eddie says softly.

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Always,” Buck says honestly. It has dulled with time, but it has never gone away. He can go years without thinking of her, only to be reminded with a wave of grief so strong it threatens to knock him off his feet. Sometimes he wonders if he actually remembers what she looked like or has made it all up in his mind. Not that Eddie needs to hear that now. 

“Was there anyone else?” Buck’s not sure why Eddie is asking these questions, but if it helps him he is happy to answer. 

“Abby. There was Abby.”

“Not a very Viking name.”

“Oh she wasn’t...She was one of us.” A silence settles between them as Eddie works it out. 

“The one who…”

“Died? Yeah.” 

“Can I ask...No, never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

“What happened? I can,” Buck offers. It’s the least he can do. Buck is the one who killed him, he’s the one who took him away from his son. Eddie could have lived to an old age before dying the first time if not for him. Maybe he never would have become immortal at all. 

“Only if you want to.”

“She was the last one I met. After my sister died, I had slept my way through two continents, living it up, I guess. Just trying to feel something. But I dreamed of her. We do that until we meet. By the time I actually met her I was in love. We traveled for years together, I thought she was the one, you know? The one I would spend all of eternity with,” Buck sighs, suddenly unable to look at the man leaning against his side. 

Eddie rests a comforting hand against his thigh and it’s all he needs to continue. 

“She didn’t feel the same way. About a hundred years in she said she needed time to find herself again, that the world was changing too quickly. No problem, right? We had all the time in the world. I told her I would wait for her. One year turned to ten, turned to hundred. Eventually we got word that she’s been injured and is not healing. I traveled to her, scared the whole time she would die before I could get there. I wanted to spend the rest of her days with her, you know?”

“What happened?”

“She was married to someone else; had been for years. I wasn’t who she wanted to spend her life with.”

“She should have told you,” Eddie says, sounding almost offended on his behalf. It’s nice of him, albeit unnecessary. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we had email back then.”

“She could get word that she was injured.” Buck has nothing to say in response so he says nothing. “I think my wife would have left me if I hadn’t died,” Eddie says after a time. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse that I spared her the trouble.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I was a bad husband. I was a bad father.”

“Bullshit, I saw you with your son. He loves you, it’s clear you love him.”

“Not enough.”

“Look, I won’t pretend to know your life, but I don’t even remember my parents. Nothing. Not one memory. I don’t think they were bad people, but they didn’t care. Not like you do. I’d have done anything to have someone love me the way you love your son. I’m just...I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I’m the reason you’re losing him. I’m the reason you have to stay away.”

“Buck,” Eddie says intently, turning to look him directly in the eyes. He places a hand on his shoulder, his thumb resting on his collarbone and despite being high up in the air he has never felt so grounded. Eddie’s so close Buck can feel the warmth of his breath against his face. “I don’t blame you for any of this. I could have gotten blown up by an IED, a helicopter could have gotten shot down while I was in it. Hell, I could have fallen and hit my head on a rock. I was going to die eventually, Buck. This...this isn’t on you.” 

He says it so earnestly that Buck can’t help but believe him. He doesn’t deserve his understanding. He doesn’t deserve his grace. 

“I know we can’t make up for what you’ve lost, but you’re family now,” Buck says softly, willing Eddie to believe him. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to. We look out for each other, protect each other. I can do that for you.” 

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, smirking in a way that makes Buck’s jump as if they hit a patch of turbulence. “You’re a good man, Buck. You can have my back any day.”

“Or, you know, you can have mine.”

Eddie smiles and for a moment his heart stops. “Deal.”

* * *

Like a light switch being flipped, everything changes when they get back from Texas.

They return to the group inseparable. 

It would have been easy to get lost in his depression, to spend his days like a mindless robot completing tasks until the next day comes and doing it all again. Buck doesn’t let him. Buck with his endless curiosity and encyclopedic knowledge. Nearly a thousand years on earth and he is still impossibly curious. 

Buck forces him to care, he forces him to live. 

It’s too dangerous for the group to stay together all the time, yet every time they part ways there is a silent understanding that where Buck goes he will follow. 

Buck who shows him the world, explaining in endless detail all the ways it has changed over time. Buck who holds him when he misses his son, when he grieves the memories he will never be part of until there are no more memories to be missing from. 

He learns the agony of watching Buck die before his eyes, holding his breath until the blond man gasps back to life. He watches the fury of Buck’s wrath whenever someone is foolish enough to strike him down in front of Buck’s eyes.

He waits for the inevitable day when Buck will grow sick of him. 

Shannon had barely lasted a decade before wanting to be rid of him. Forever is a long time to stay by someone’s side, even with a limited pool of options. He waits, and he waits, but still Buck is by his side. 

They start sharing a bed within the first three years. They tell themselves it’s more economical that way, easier to keep guard. It’s a lie they’re happy to share, especially when Buck’s heavy frame wraps around him and holds him close. 

It takes Eddie seventeen years to kiss him. Buck claims he kissed him first, but that is a damn lie. Eddie was definitely first, stealing a kiss under the night sky in Malta. 

Buck was the first one to take him in his mouth, he’ll give him that, beautiful where he knelt before him with cheeks hollowed out around him. They’ve learned every inch of each other’s bodies, kissed every piece of flesh and memorized every way to make the other moan. He never tires of the heavy weight of Buck’s thighs straddling him, the way his breath hitches as he sucks at the long line of his throat. 

Even now, centuries later he wants _more_.

Oh, they fight. 

They jab at each other’s insecurities with the precision of a tracking missile. 

They also make up, whispered apologies against desperate embraces. 

Hundreds of years and still Buck asks, “Do you love me?”

“You’re okay,” Eddie replies dryly, moving to curl against him in their bed. 

“I’m being serious,” Buck huffs, turning so that they’re facing each other, sliding a thigh between his legs. 

“Love is not enough, Buck, you know that” Eddie states decidedly, placing a delicate kiss against the birthmark he so adores. “There aren’t enough words or languages to describe how I feel for you.”

“But if you had to try…”

Eddie laughs, peppering sloppy kisses against Buck’s jaw. “A thousand years old and still so _needy_.”

“For you? Always. Now answer the question.”

Eddie has never been good at words or grand declarations, not like Buck. Still, he tries because Buck deserves them.

“I love you now, I’ll love you in a thousand years. When you leave me, I will die of heartache every day until the day I’m allowed to rejoin you.”

“I’ll never leave you,” Buck says sternly, looking cross at the suggestion. 

“Maybe not intentionally, but you’re nine hundred years older than me, Buck. You’ll die before me and take my heart with you.”

“I won’t,” Buck insists, rolling them until he is flush on top of him, kissing him desperately, his tongue stealing into his mouth as Eddie sighs against his lips. “I won’t leave you. We go together.”

“That’s not in your control.”

“It is. I might have been alive before you, but I didn’t start living until you came to me. Where you go, I go. End of story.”

Eddie can’t but smile, not wanting to fight him about something they have no say in. Buck is a hopeless romantic, always has been, always would be. “This is why I love you. You’re my humanity, Buck. The reason any of this is worth caring about.”

“But you won’t leave me either, right?”

“No, Buck. I won’t leave you. Home is where you’re wanted, right? Well, you’re my home and I’m yours. Anywhere. Always.” Of that, Eddie is sure of. 

Buck seems pleased with that, leaning forward to capture his mouth in a kiss. “I love you, too,” Buck says, his face impossibly young as the light streams into the room. 

Eddie will never get over how beautiful Buck is when he smiles.


	2. Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Hayley who made this [this beautiful gifset.](https://agentlemuse.tumblr.com/post/626717397518303232/buckleyevan-only-the-lonely-survive-by)
> 
> Sorry to make you wait so long!

“How much are you willing to wager,” Hen challenges, her own stack of bills being dropped on the table like a declaration of war.

Chim eyes everyone carefully, emptying out all the money in his wallet with a confident pop of his gum. “I’m all in. Buck?” 

“All in. Eddie?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh, come on! It’s tradition,” Buck begs, practically pouting as he tries to get Eddie to join in on the bet. He refuses every time and every time Buck acts surprised. 

“Pretty sure the only tradition here is them getting all of your money,” Eddie points out with a smirk, earning a sharp laugh from Athena. 

“You are too young to be this lame,” Buck sighs dramatically as Eddie rolls his eyes. He might be lame, but at least he will keep his money. 

Just like that Hen is crowing as Buck laments his defeat. He looks to him with wide eyes in hopes of sympathy but all Eddie can do is laugh. He did warn him. 

Athena and Bobby were chuckling fondly from their spot in the corner, speaking to each other without saying a word as they do often do. After one night of partaking in too much of Hen’s sangria he asked Buck if they had developed telepathic powers and Buck laughed so hard he snorted red wine out his nose. Considering their immortal status he didn’t think it was quite _that_ funny, but Buck disagreed. 

Looking at them now he still says it was a valid question. 

“Okay everyone listen up,” Athena announces, drawing the attention of everyone with the simple command. “We have some news.” 

“New job,” Buck asks eagerly, already wanting to speed ahead. 

Bobby and Athena share a sad look and for the first time since Eddie has known them they look like they’re struggling to find the words to say. Athena stands, picking at a scab on her arm. 

A scab. 

She shouldn’t have a—

“I’m mortal.” 

It’s funny how you can live for a millennia and a single moment can still knock you to your knees. 

Athena could still have three, maybe even four, decades with them, but suddenly each moment is finite. He knew this was possible, Buck had told him about Abby, but it wasn’t real until now. 

He may not know her as well as the others; hasn’t watched dynasties rise and fall with her, but she’s his family now. He foolishly thought he’d have more time before saying goodbye to family again. 

But it’s not about him. It’s about Athena. It’s about the people who have loved her for centuries trying to wrap their minds around life without her. 

Eddie doesn’t know much about Buck’s parents, partly because there isn’t much worth remembering from the way Buck tells it, but Athena is his mother for all intents and purposes. Now that she’s - not _vulnerable_ (she’d stab him for even thinking it) - mortal, Buck has been like an overprotective mother hen. Athena has looked ready to strangle him on more than one occasion and he’s pretty sure the fussing is more likely to take years off her life than anything else.

And it’s sweet. Funny even, how Athena looks at him with such exasperated fondness. 

Only that overprotectiveness makes a reckless Buck even _more_ reckless. 

Which, fine, Buck’s immortal. For now. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? The idea that immortality just _ends_ was hypothetical before now. 

And Buck is—

Buck is—

Buck is his family. His person. The only reason he doesn’t spend this eternity of his lamenting every new day. 

Buck has been on this earth for nearly a millennia without him, but Eddie doesn’t want to live without him. Not for a thousand years or a thousand days or even a thousand minutes. Not because he _needs_ Buck, but because he wants him. He wants his kind eyes and infectious laughter beside his side. He wants the feel of his breath on the back of his neck as he lays curled in behind him. He’s not sure he can go back to sleeping alone. 

A shame he’ll need roughly a thousand years to figure out a way to finally tell him, which is not going to happen with Buck being so eager to get himself killed. 

Buck insists on throwing himself into danger, which means Eddie has to throw himself further. He’s younger, newer, he can take more hits. He knows logically that Buck must have died hundreds of times before him, but he hasn’t died since Eddie killed him. Maybe he can’t keep him alive forever, but he can certainly try. 

Bobby catches on first. 

“Nasty hit you took today.”

“I’ve had worse,” Eddie says nonchalantly, fingers flexing against a phantom wound long since healed. Buck stormed out earlier, pissed he jumped in front of a bullet for him only to bleed out slowly. Tonight Buck will hold him closer, making sure he’s still in one piece; a bittersweet ritual they’ve formed together. He’ll take the anger if it keeps Buck safe. 

“You’ve been taking a lot of hits lately.”

“Saying I should work on my ducking skills?”

“Saying you can’t take them all,” Bobby replies, cutting off whatever comment he might be opening his mouth to say with a look. “When is the last time Buck died?”

“You should ask—“

“When?”

“When I shot him,” Eddie admits, jaw clenching. 

“He’s had a good run, but good runs end. He knows what’s at stake just like everyone else. We can’t outrun the inevitable. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you try,” Bobby says softly, an unspoken pain behind his eyes. “Don’t miss out on the good worrying about the bad.”

“Wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t so eager to put himself in harm’s way,” Eddie deflects, no real malice in his words.

“Funny, that’s what Buck said about Athena.”

That was hardly the same. Buck is being reckless, Eddie is just—

Well it’s not like he can take care of him through his cooking, now can he? 

The next few months they take it easy on the missions, focusing on time together as a family. It’s good, great even, but it’s only a matter of time before the world has a need for their set of skills. 

Which is how they find themselves in this dimly lit warehouse in what is clearly a trap. 

He and Buck have taken the front, trying to clear a path to the escape route so they can’t get pinned in. The sharp pops of bullets flood his ears, a fog of plaster dust filling the air as bullets lodge in walls instead of bone. 

There are too many blind spots and not enough cover. 

There’s shouting, cries of pain, but none of them familiar. They’re gaining ground, they’re getting out, they’re—

The sick sound of a bullet striking flesh, muscle, bone enters his ear. A spray of blood hits his cheek. 

Eddie turns to see Buck crumple against the ground. 

Suddenly there is no noise, no friends or foes. There was only Buck lifeless on the floor, his head a gaping wound of brain matter and skull.

He falls to his knees beside him, blood soaking his trousers as he reaches out to help him. Only, he doesn’t know how to fix this. 

“Buck, wake up. Buck. _Buck.”_ He doesn’t recognize his voice, doesn’t recognize the frantic panic of this strange sound coming out of his mouth. 

He thinks of all those zombie movies he used to watch with his sisters when he was young. The only way to kill them was to take out the brain. They couldn’t come back from that. Buck couldn’t—

Eddie shot him in the head once, but this was different. There hadn’t been this hole. There hadn’t been brain matter scattered across the floor. Buck hadn’t taken this long to wake up. 

He can’t do this without him. He doesn’t want to do this without him. 

“Wake up, wake up, you have to wake up,” Eddie demands, then begs. 

“Eddie, we have to keep going,” Chim says from across the room, providing cover from enemies he couldn’t care less about. “He’ll catch up.” 

He ignores him. Of course he ignores him. He can’t leave Buck. He’s going to wake up, he has to, so why is it taking so long?

The team moves on, because there is no other choice if they want to get out of here, but Eddie doesn’t move. He waits for a sign of life, anything, but Buck stays perfectly still. He should be healing already, blue eyes fluttering and a smile on his lips. He shouldn’t be so still and pale under the stark stream of red. 

He’s so lost waiting for puffs of air that aren’t coming he misses the footsteps behind him. It’s not until he feels rough hands grabbing at him that he remembers the fight. He feels a knife slide through his ribs as they try to drag him back. He thrashes wildly, scrambling for any weakness he can exploit. They’re not going to take him away from Buck. He’s not leaving him alone. He’s not—

A single shot rings out and the man Eddie was fighting falls. 

Eddie turns back to Buck who is sitting up with a gun in hand. 

Eddie scrambles over to him, pulling him close, feeling the side of his head to make sure he’s whole.

“Eddie, we need to catch up with the others,” Buck urges, already back in the game. How can he be so calm? How can he be so steady? “Eddie. _Eddie.”_

“Your birthmark grew back.” 

Buck’s face grows soft for a moment, letting out a puff of breath like it was punched out of him. Eddie can feel the wound on his side healing, but he ignores it, busy feeling the pulse of Buck’s heartbeat where his hand rests on Buck’s neck. 

“Eddie, we have to keep going.”

“You weren’t waking up. You took so long to wake up.”

“I’m here, Eddie,” Buck insists, resting his forehead warm and whole against Eddie’s. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you, okay? I won’t leave you. Now let’s go.”

Eddie goes with him because there is no other option. He doesn’t want to be anywhere without him. 

It doesn’t doesn’t get any easier to watch him die, but Buck always comes back to him. He has to believe he always will.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge THANK YOU to Katie for not only giving me the title, but encouraging my madness with this one. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
